


even to the edge of doom

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [20]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (its a horse and its Bad), Death, Doubting Perception, Graphic Animal Death, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Graphic Desecration of a Corpse, Villain!Deceit, consider bringing a friend, consider taking breaks, grave robbing, i'm only joking a little i genuinely want yall to stay safe here, this is going to get spectacularly ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: There's a traitor in our midst.But who is he betraying?





	even to the edge of doom

**Author's Note:**

> story contains flashbacks, but theyre not the whole thing. the title is from Sonnet 116 by Wiliam Shakespeare. The rose bushes mentioned in this section were inspired by the Shady Lady, the worlds largest rose (tree) bush. She's lovely. I love her.

_Durant did not expect to ever see the witch again, in honesty._

_She’d been a convenient weakness of Virgil’s, but otherwise irrelevant. And humans had such brief lives anyway – the next time he did see her, he was actually a little startled, because he’d assumed she was already dead._

_When she’d come to the tree, he’d debated himself about just ignoring her. None of the other fae were willing to even go near her – even though Virgil was no longer the lord of the forest, old habits die hard, and when he’d been awake even breathing in her direction could have been cause for a painful, messy death._

_Three nights she came, bearing no gifts or trinkets – only herself. And she didn’t sit, each time tying her clothes to a branch at exactly midnight and standing at attention for an hour before leaving. She didn’t seem disappointed, either. She wore no expression at all, as a matter of fact._

_She’d aged, he could tell, but he wasn’t really sure how much. How long had it been? A decade, maybe less, he thought._

_On the third night, he finally decided – Virgil might be asleep, out of the way forever, but Durant could admit that he wasn’t quite satisfied. It had been so easy – barely any fun at all. And this?_

_Well, this had the potential to be_ very _fun._

* * *

Belladonna was… a lot.

She had not stopped speaking since they began their traipsing through the woods. Logan was torn between wanting to befriend the fae who was clearly their most strident ally and begging her to stop talking.

It didn’t help that he could see the false Roman, barely ahead of them, looking calm and collected and wearing Roman’s face like it belonged to him. Logan was having trouble containing the snarl that wanted to bubble up every time he looked at him.

“So, you’re a, um,” Belladonna snapped a few times, as if searching for a word, “A ‘nerd’ right? you do human magic? What’s it called, with all the fire and the strange metals?”

Logan was baffled by this description for several long moments.

“Are you talking about science?” giggled Patton from his place on Virgil’s horse beside them.

“That’s the word!” said Belladonna, “Science. You do science,”

“I do enjoy science, yes,” replied Logan. Although why Belladonna knew this information he couldn’t fathom.

The simplest answer would be that the false Roman had told her, but Logan was fairly sure Occam’s Razor did not apply in this case – the impostor seemed like he found all of them spectacularly un-noteworthy. Logan couldn’t imagine him talking about them unprompted, and Belladonna would have had no reason to bring them up herself.

The conversation continued, and Patton didn’t seem to have Logan’s reservations about making friends with a knight who had been ordered to turn them over to the Serpent King not an hour ago. They were becoming fast friends, and Logan could see his own barely contained fondness reflected in the smile Virgil was trying to prevent on his own face.

But his eyes kept being drawn back to Roman – Night-Roman, false Roman, Not-Roman – who’s shoulders were climbing higher and higher with tension. He kept looking warily at the gradually lightening sky.

Patton must have noticed as well, although when he shared  _his_ conclusion, Logan couldn’t help but scoff.

“We should check on him,” said Patton quietly, “He seems really scared of something,”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Logan sharply, “He is not our Roman and his distress is irrelevant. And the sun will rise soon and he will be gone anyway,”

“I don’t know,” said Patton, pressing his forehead to Virgil’s back, “He’s got to be at least a  _little_  bit Roman, right? He knows our nicknames. He drinks tea with so much sugar it makes  _my_  teeth hurt,”

“He accused you of deliberately using your curse and addressed me in a way he knew was distressing to me,” said Logan, “Roman can on occasion be cruel but it is always unintentional. There are no circumstances under which he would say such things,”

“You don’t usually say things so… absolute,” replied Patton.

“You and Virgil and Roman are absolutes,” said Logan, ignoring the way his ears burned.

Patton hummed, considering.

He was quiet for a long time, and Logan thought the subject dropped. but after the quiet, Patton spoke again.

“…please?” he said softly.

Virgil’s shoulders slumped, defeated, and Logan knew he’d lost.

Belladonna had been… suspiciously quiet during this exchange, but she’d apparently arrived at the same conclusion as Logan from Virgil’s body language. She tapped her heel to her horses side and trotted them up alongside the impostor’s horse, Virgil close behind.

“Why the long face, Sir Roman?” she said, a little cajoling. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Nothing. Go away,” he said shortly.

She leaned across the space between them and punched him on the arm. He swiped at her hand, his face pulling up into an exasperated smile and for a single second he looked exactly like Roman always did, smug and amused and bright as the sun, and Logan’s chest throbbed with rage.

But then Night-Roman’s nose pulled up into a sneer and the moment was over.

“Go away, Bell,” he said, “You’d better get the fun out of your system now, while you still can,”

Belladonna frowned at him, rolling her eyes.

“Killjoy,” she muttered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Patton blurted, and Logan wanted to tear his hair out. Logan would of course change absolutely nothing about Patton, but he did, on occasion, wonder if Patton possibly had too much empathy for his own good.

The false Roman looked absolutely baffled by this query, then wary. He turned his eyes frontward, frowning, and Logan though he was simply going to ignore the question. But then he spoke, a little hesitant.

“I haven’t seen my king in many days,” he replied, “And I’m afraid the sun is going to come up before we get to him,”

“…You miss him?” said Patton, and Logan could tell the question caused him great pain.

Night-Roman didn’t answer.

“Why don’t you just, um. Ride ahead of us?” asked Patton.

Night-Roman’s face twisted into a snarl that made him look far more fae than human.

“Maybe I want to see your faces when he turns the abomination on you, Goldilocks,”

He snapped the reins of his horse and pulled ahead of them again.

Patton immediately hid his face in Virgil’s back, shoulders shaking. Virgil was gritting his teeth so hard Logan was legitimately worried he might crack a tooth. Could fae crack teeth? Logan never had.

Patton sniffed and turned to Logan, smiling regretfully.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Why on earth are you apologizing?” said Logan.

“You warned me not to talk to him,” said Patton, “And I ignored you,”

Logan shook his head.

“You couldn’t help it,” he said softly.

“Still,” said Patton.

“I shall try to remember to pass further warnings through Virgil,” said Logan. Patton giggled.

“There is something,” said Patton, “That I wanted to mention to both of you.”

“What is it, Pat?” said Virgil.

Patton sniffed again, reaching up to wipe his face.

“I don’t think we should tell Roman all the stuff Night-Roman said to us,”

Virgil bit the inside of his mouth.

“Historically,“ he said carefully, "Lying to each other hasn’t gotten us very far,”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean lie,” said Patton instantly, “I just mean… he doesn’t really need to know  _exactly_  what he said, right?”

Logan agreed, but it didn’t make it sit any less heavy in his stomach.

“Maybe not,” said Virgil quietly.

They were quiet for a long time, and then Belladonna spoke.

“He isn’t… he’s not really that bad, you know,” she said quietly, “He  _is_ my friend,”

Logan didn’t really know if that said more about Roman or more about her. He found himself dreading the answer.

* * *

_Durant stepped out of the shadows, around the trunk of the tree, opening his mouth to speak._

“ _Took you long enough,” she said, not even turning her head to look at him, “I didn’t take you for a coward,_ Herr Natter _,”_

_He lunged._

_Only to crack against something solid as stone._

_The witch turned then, her face impassive, and tapped the glass vial around her neck._

“ _Shouldn’t have made me cry,” she said lightly, “There’s very little more effective protection than tears of grief,”_

_He sneered at her._

“ _To what do I owe the displeasure of your company, witch?”_

_She didn’t speak for almost a full ten seconds, and Durant practically rippled with rage at the sheer disrespect. He’d started this conversation looking to further mock Virgil, but he was quickly shifting into wanting to torture the shrew for her own sake._

“ _The thing is,” she said finally, “I actually_ do _think you’re a coward, as well as a two-bit charlatan,”_

_T_ _he noise he made should have made her run away with terror._ _As it was, she only gave him a brittle, cold smile._

“ _You knew you couldn’t beat him,” she continued, “You weren’t even powerful enough to actually kill him, despite resorting to your tricks. And now you style yourself the Serpent King, because you are weak and vain and think yourself too good to honor your own mother,”_

_Durant scoffed._

“ _Why am I not surprised he filled your head with nonsense?” he mocked, “The forest isn’t sentient, you idiotic harpy; Virgil simply has a tendency to be pathetically sentimental. Which you should know, being one of his little pets,”_

_Her smile turned a little derisive._

“ _Well,” she said conversationally, “A coward and a moron._ _Do you have any other talents?”_

“ _Is this a suicide attempt?” said Durant, “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I’d have been happy to kill you if you only asked,”_

“ _No,” she replied, “You’re going to tell me how to wake him up,”_

* * *

Patton knew as soon as they’d made it to the king. Roman ahead of them became so antsy he was nearly shaking, and then snapped his horse into a gallop and pulled on ahead. Patton tried not to feel like his chest was caving in.

When they broke out of the treeline behind them, into the clearing, Patton could see the Serpent King on a raised platform on the other side. More fae were scattered around the base of it, watching the returning hunt. Some were wary, some curious, some grinning with savage glee. Roman was in the center of the clearing, staring up at the king with an expression that bordered on desperation. They were talking to each other in low tones, and Patton couldn’t quite make out their conversation.

“Well,” said the king, calling out to them. “Good morning, Virgil. Did you enjoy your nap?”

“I really wouldn’t be so cavalier right now if I were you,” said Virgil.

The king shrugged.

“I’m not. You know very well I’m holding both trump cards at the moment,”

He smiled, wide and cruel, and Patton could see every one of his slightly-too-sharp teeth even on the other side of the clearing.

“Roman, darling. Join me up here, before the sun rises. It’s time your Day-Self knows for sure who he belongs to,”

Roman slumped in relief, dismounting instantly. Patton heart throbbed, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in Virgil’s back.

Roman loved the king. There couldn’t be any arguing otherwise now. He just loved him.

Roman went quickly up the steps of the dais, almost running. The king was smiling, like he found Roman’s eagerness amusing.

Patton knew the moment the sun passed the horizon.

Just as Roman came up the edge of the dais, he stumbled, his face falling. The king seemed to be expecting this, and was already by Roman’s side, hands under Roman’s elbows.

Roman blinked, looking around in confusion. He was clearly disoriented, but then his eyes focused on the Serpent King and he went pale as milk.

He looked over the king’s shoulder at the three of them, and Patton tried to smile comfortingly. Judging from Roman’s petrified expression he’d fallen a bit short.

“So, brother,” said the king, “I have this one. and I have your little witch. I think I like my odds,”

“She isn’t under your control anymore,” spat Virgil.

The king just continued to smile. He made his way back over to his seat, pulling Roman with him. He manhandled Roman – who was looking increasingly nauseous - to sit on the arm of the throne as the king continued to speak.

“Yes I heard about your little lovely-voiced pet,” said the king, and Patton gripped the cloth of Virgil’s shirt in fists and tried with all his might not to quail under the calculating gaze that turned onto him, “A useful trick. But I’ve seen no signs of disobedience in  _my_  pet so far. Are you willing to bet your life on it?”

The king hadn’t let go of Roman still. He kept one of Roman’s hands in his, and the kings other hand was gripping the back of Roman’s neck possessively. Roman was completely still, like a rabbit frozen in headlights. For the second time that evening, Patton wished his curse worked on fae. He’d give almost anything to to tell the Serpent King to never lay a hand on Roman again.

“It’s a pity,” said the king, “So many decent knights. A waste. And you’re not even going to be able to enjoy it, darling,”

Roman flinched. The king moved his thumb along the hinge of Roman’s jaw, and Patton bit his lip with the force of keeping the words in, unable to bear looking a second longer and hiding his face.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered desperately, before he could think about it. Logan made a startled sound beside him and Patton flinched, realizing he hadn’t been quite quiet enough.

When he looked back up, the king was looking at Roman like he was torn between laughter and huffing in frustration.

“I feel it’s only fair to warn you,” said the king, “That when it gets here it will be very quick and very messy. If you’d like to run, I’ll be disappointed, but it might get something out of chasing you. And I’ll never complain about being alone with Roman,”

Roman said something very quietly that Patton couldn’t hear. The king laughed, but he didn’t respond. Roman squeezed his eyes shut.

Patton started to feel hot and itchy, recognizing it from the first time and then at Logan’s house. The knights around them began to shift, uneasy. All except Belladonna, who was staring so intently at Roman it was like she was trying to bore a hole in his head.

Behind the king, the air began to shift, bubbling like boiling water. The few sprigs of spring green poking up through the forest detritus wilted and melted away. Greta’s dark shape slipped out of the trees, and the crowd of fae around the foot of the platform parted around her.

She’d grown bigger again, more unnatural. She wasn’t speaking anymore - there was only a deep sound, almost too low to hear. A growl that Patton could feel in the hollow of his rib cage, even with his feet off the ground.

Virgil released the reins with one hand, laying it over Patton’s and squeezing gently.

“Are you alright to do this?” said Virgil softly.

Patton nodded his agreement into Virgil’s back, and Virgil moved them closer, ahead of the hunt. He turned the horse so Patton could see better.

Patton sat up straight, looking directly at Mrs. Fischer – eye contact wasn’t really on the table (Patton couldn’t really find any eyes. Or maybe there were too many eyes) but it made the magic stick better, and Patton figured he could use all the help he could get.

“Mrs. Fischer,” he said firmly, “Please calm down,”

He was expecting to have to do it a few times – It had taken three at Logan’s house, which was pretty much unprecedented.

He was not expecting her to not only not slow down, but show no signs that she’d heard him at all.

“Uh-oh,” said the king mockingly. “Looks like I win,”

Yeah. Uh-oh was about the scope of it.

* * *

_Durant stayed silent for a moment._

“ _Is there a punchline?” he said._

“ _You wish,” she said._

“ _Why on Earth would I give you a way to wake him up after all the trouble I went putting him to sleep in the first place?”_

“ _What’s the matter?” she said, her voice cloyingly sweet, “Afraid you’re going to be outsmarted by a mortal?”_

“ _I will not be baited by the likes of you,”_

“ _Or maybe you’re afraid of Virgil?” she continued, “Who am I kidding; we both_ know _you’re afraid of Virgil. He won’t be happy with you when he wakes up,”_

“ _If,” deadpanned Durant._

“ _When,” she spat._

“ _Arrogant,”_

“ _Is it arrogance if I actually am better than you?” she said sweetly._

_He deliberated. He could kill her. The charm was a temporary deterrent – she couldn’t hide behind trinkets forever. Durant had all the time in the world – she had barely any at all._

_The skeleton of a plan formed. A gamble – but quite the pay off if it worked._

“ _Alright,” he said, “But there’s a price for everything,”_

“ _I’m familiar with the process,” she said, snide._

“ _I want your bones,” he said._

“ _I have read Shakespeare,_ Herr Natter, _in the original English, even. I know how a pound of flesh works. No,”_

“ _Oh, I don’t need them now,” he said, “You can keep them for the rest of your brief and pitiful mortal life. I want them after you’re dead,”_

_He could see her considering it, suspicious._

“ _What could you possibly want with a corpse?” she said, a note of disgust in her voice._

_Durant shrugged noncommittally._

“ _There’s all sort of magical uses for a witch’s bones,” he said, “And anyway, what concern is it of yours? You’ll be dead,”_

_Her eyes narrowed._

_He shrugged again._

“ _Your bones after you’ve passed in exchange for a way to wake Virgil,” he said, “Take it or leave it,”_

_She stared at him, calculating._

“ _Fine,” she said finally._

“ _You’ll need to lose the tears to seal it,” he said smugly._

_She pulled off the vial around her neck, setting it carefully in the dirt. She offered him her hand with a nasty smile._

_He expected to surprise her with the kiss but she didn’t even flinch. He pressed the magic into her and moved to pull away, but then she fisted her hand in his shirt, holding him still, and slammed her forehead into his face._

_He stumbled back, dabbing furiously at the blood at his nose – she’d already picked the vial back up, and her smile was smug and vicious._

“ _I’m not going to kill you, witch,” he said savagely, “But when I’m through? You will_ wish _I’d been so kind,”_

“ _I_ am _going to kill you,_ Herr Natter _,” she replied, with a smile that was more a snarl, “And I’m not going to be kind about it_ at all _,”_

* * *

Virgil yanked the reins, pulling back instantly to re-join the hunt. Panic was clawing in his chest. It had worked before; why wasn’t it working now?

_She didn’t have_ orders _before_ , he thought bitterly.

“We can go back!” said Patton, “I can try again!”

“Put him in the back,” said one of the knights, “He’ll be more useful where he can be heard but not harmed,”

Virgil could see the logic, but the idea of letting Patton out of arms reach was incredibly distasteful.

“ _Move_!”

Adrius leapt forward – he was one of the few without a horse. Greta had lunged, a surge of speed from who knows where. Adrius met her with a sword.

She barely reacted. She paused for only a moment, then swiped one of her enormous convulsing limbs at him and knocked him out of the way like a gnat. He collapsed the second she made contact.

Belladonna spurred her horse, but didn’t go directly for Greta. She circled her colossal form to behind, looking up at the dais desperately. It was like she was trying to communicate something with her eyes alone.

But her distraction cost her.

Greta didn’t seem limited by things like line of sight. She didn’t turn back, only took another swing with the limb closest to Belladonna and Logan.

Belladonna’s eyes rolled back. She slumped, sliding off the horse, which reared up in panic. Logan tumbled off the back.

Virgil shouted wordlessly, but Logan gave a shaky thumbs up before scrambling back, away from Greta.

Just in time.

Greta did turn then, more appendages reaching out towards the horse, which had started to fall apart.

It was like watching someone snip the seams of a rag doll, and several of the fae in the crowd around the dais turned away, unable to look. Others cheered, like it was a spectator sport, and Virgil vindictively marked their faces in his head. If they got out of this, there was going to be hell to pay.

But that was a pretty big if.

The knights were circling Greta now; too wary to attack, but unwilling to retreat. One of them broke the circle, moving forward, but suddenly she yelped.

Her sword was rapidly turning bright red. She cradled one hand in the other. The sword sizzled as it hit the dirt.

One of the fae  _did_  seem willing to retreat at that. One of the few on foot, he turned on a dime and sprinted for the treeline. He didn’t make it far before a long line  _snapped_  out.

What happened next was confusing – one second he was there, and the next he just… wasn’t.

The spot where he’d stood had a strangely empty quality to it, which hung in the air for several moments before dissipating. Patton was now shaking like a leaf at Virgil’s back. Logan was edging his way around the treeline, trying to circle back to them without getting Greta’s attention. Virgil resisted the urge to scream at him to just run, because that very well might  _bring_  her attention to Logan.

Another one of the knights vanished with a  _snap_ , a gaping void in the air atop the horse. The horse lost it, screaming and rearing up before galloping in the other direction. Greta let it go this time.

She was far worse than she’d been at Logan’s, even Patton’s – she barely had the vaguest sense of a shape anymore. She was like a scream given physical form; just  _existing_  looked painful.

Virgil didn’t want to get close enough for her to be able to reach Patton. Slipping a knife out of his sleeve, Virgil flipped it back and forth.

If he could get past her though, he might be able to get to his brother.

Slowly, trying not to draw her attention, Virgil urged the horse onward.

It was easier said than done – Virgil’d never actually been all that great with prey animals, and this particular horse clearly wanted to be as far away from Greta as possible. Which made it a good deal smarter than anyone else in this clearing, in Virgil’s opinion.

Greta was still surrounded. She lunged, and another knight fell into her grip. Like the horse, it fell to pieces, and Patton must have been watching still because his hiccuping sobs grew louder. Virgil could hear him trying to speak to stop himself from crying but he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Someone broke out of the crowd around the dais, standing in front of it and turning his back on the carnage behind him.

“ _Please stop it!”_  he shouted, “Please, isn’t this enough? This isn’t a battle, it’s a slaughter!”

Roman was nodding, saying something too low for Virgil to make out, but his brother just laughed at them both.

“Your presence is a non-issue,” he said, amused, “If you are too Summer for a little bloodshed, you’re welcome to leave,”

“Sir Roman, surely-”

“Don’t talk to him,” said his brother lightly, waving a hand. The Seelie opened his mouth to speak again, but there was another wet  _snap_ and he was gone, scarring the air he left behind.

Greta lurched toward them, and Virgil’s attention snapped back to her. The circle scattered. Patton was squeezing Virgil so tightly it would be painful for a human. Before Virgil could pull the horse away from her, Greta lunged again, slamming down mere feet away from them.

The horse threw them, Virgil and Patton both tumbling to the ground. Virgil grabbed Patton, pulling the shadow of the tree they were under around them and  _yanking_.

They came up by Logan, closer to the dais. Virgil ran his hands over Patton, who looked like he was going to be sick.

“What the  _fuck_?” blurted Logan.

“Are you okay?” demanded Virgil, and Patton blinked several times before giving a shaky nod.

“Yep,” he said, voice quivering, “but, uh, let’s save that for emergencies, mkay?”

Greta let out a noise that made Virgil feel like he had razors writhing in his skull. Patton cried out, curling up and covering his own ears.

The dirt in front of them exploded.

Virgil flinched backwards but it was over in a second – a wall of rose bushes nearly as tall as him, and dense enough that he could barely see through it. It had thorns the size of his thumb, stems and leaves so dark green they were nearly black, and was dotted with huge, dark crimson blossoms.

Virgil turned and looked incredulously at Logan, who looked even more startled than Virgil felt.

“That was unintentional,” he said.

“Holy  _shit_ , L,” laughed Virgil, a little hysterical. He pulled Patton to his feet – and his chest ached when Patton’s hand came away from his ears, little spots of blood on his fingers – and gently pushed him in Logan’s direction.

“Run,” he said, “This isn’t going to end well,”

“He’ll just come find us,” said Patton, looking at his own fingers and wincing, “You know he won’t let it go. And Logan can’t leave Wickhills,”

“There is nowhere for us  _to_  run,” said Logan.

“And even if there was we wouldn’t leave you,” said Patton. “So- so, there,”

He looked over at Greta, swallowing nervously.

“Should I try again?”

One of Logan’s hands moved from Patton’s shoulders to his hair.

“I-,” he started, pausing and clearing his throat, “I think it’s just… over, actually, Patton,”

Patton nodded, like he’d already known it before Logan had said it aloud.

As another one of the knights collapsed, Virgil realized that he was probably right.

* * *

_The air carried the smell of freshly turned earth and crisp summer sunlight. Durant grinned, leaning over the muddy grave, and held out his hand._

_The ring of bone came easily. It was his by right, after all. He waited, holding his breath._

_Slowly, the air in front of him solidified, took shape. He’d been watching her since their deal – now her hair had returned to its younger black, rather than the white she’d died in. She stared at him, wide-eyed and confused._

“ _You left unfinished business, witch,” he said, wiggling the fingers of his hand to show her the ring. Her expression turned horrified._

“ _Why, don’t look so down,” he said, “We’re going to have so much_ fun _,”_

* * *

Roman pulled towards the fight below again, but the king’s grip hadn’t loosened in the slightest.

Roman had his back to him, unable to look away from Mrs. Fischer down below. Fae were falling, one by one. Some of them with the black marks, unconscious; some of them vanishing entirely, leaving hollow spots in the air that hung unnatural and still as stone.

And even that seemed like kindness compared to the ones torn to pieces.

The king ran his thumb along the inside of Roman’s wrist, almost _soothing_.

“You don’t have to look,” he said, “If it bothers you so much like this,”

_Too summer for a little bloodshed._

That fae had spoken to Roman. For a moment Roman thought maybe he had an advantage, that he could convince the king to call Mrs. Fischer off where he might ignore someone else. But the king had only seem to find his protests amusing, before having the monster kill the fae just for  _speaking_  to Roman.

Roman didn’t answer, and at first he ignored the suggestion. But then one of the monsters limbs came down not inches from Virgil’s horse. it reared back, and Virgil and Patton were thrown to the ground. Roman choked and looked down to his lap, terrified of seeing something he was sure he’d never un-see.

Only to notice a black mark poking out of the sleeve of his jacket.

There was a brief moment of panic, then confusion – the monster hadn’t touched him, as far as he knew, and if it had he wouldn’t be conscious. So what-?

Surreptitiously, he stretched out his right arm so the sleeve rode up.

Handwriting. Handwriting he  _recognized_.

From the book, and the note in the walnut shell.

In all caps, jagged and underlined,  _BONE_

and then, underneath,  _H_ _e likes when you kiss his hand._

It hadn’t been on his arm when Logan put him to sleep. When would the Seelie have spoken to him?

Except a Seelie wouldn’t have known what Mrs. Fischer said about her bones. It was only the four of them.

Which meant  _he_  had written this. Night-Roman.

His hands shaking, Roman shook his arm so the sleeve fell back down.

Bone. Kiss his hand.

Roman remembered the revel, the king certain Mrs. Fischer couldn’t have done anything without his orders. The fist he’d held up.

The  _ring_.

Roman steeled his nerves, hoping desperately that the others weren’t going to be looking at him for the next few moments.

His hand was limp in the Serpent King’s, but Roman twisted it. The king tightened his grip but Roman didn’t pull it away this time, merely turned it so he was gripping the king back.

Roman turned back toward the other boy, curling in, sliding into the small space left on the chair and hiding his face in the crook of the king’s neck.

The king went rigid. He didn’t move, tense as a statue, and then began to relax a bit at a time, pressing firmly with the hand at the nape of Roman’s neck and fiddling with the strands there.

“Well,” he said, soft and amused, “Maybe you’re not so boring scared. I’ll protect you darling,”

He placed the hand with the ring on Roman’s jaw, tilting his face up and kissing him.

It was much softer than he had before. Almost  _gentle_. it made something foreign and achingly familiar twist in Roman’s chest.

Roman laid his palm over the kings hand on his face, holding it. When they pulled back, the king was smiling. Not smirking, just smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Like he was genuinely happy, and Roman realized with a detached sort of horror that this might actually hurt.

He pressed his lips to the back of the king’s hand. The king caressed the hair on Roman’s neck again, and Roman didn’t bother to hold back the shiver.

When he ran his thumb over the Serpent Kings knuckles, he gripped the bone ring and slipped it off.

The King’s expression dropped, but Roman had already leapt to his feet, quickly scanning the clearing below for Virgil’s form – was that _rose bush? –_ and, hoping desperately Virgil had the reflexes to match his speed, launched the ring through the air.

“Virgil,  _catch!_ ”

The furious noise the king made behind Roman was muffled by the roaring in Roman’s ears, as the ring tumbled over itself in the air, before coming to a stop in Virgil’s raised hand.

Virgil crushed it without hesitating – and was like a flash bomb went off.

A light so bright and white it made Roman feel like he was being stabbed in the eyes suffused the whole clearing. He covered them with his arms, shielding them, until the faint morning twilight returned and he could blink the spots away once more.

There was hardly any distortion now – more like she was flickering, like a guttering candle. She was still not human, but now she was easily recognizable.

Four clawed limbs, thin stretched membranes of skin over bone framework and lizard-like head brimming with razor-sharp teeth.

Teeth that were on full display as the dragon turned, facing the dais with Roman and the Serpent king atop it.

“ **Hello,** _ **Herr Natter**_ **,”** she purred.

Roman took a step back, out of the way. The king had shot to his feet, too slow to stop Roman but now standing beside him.

Roman glanced up at him and the king was already looking back. But he didn’t look angry, or even afraid.

He looked  _gutted._

“Roman?” he said faintly.

“I-”  _I’m sorry_ , Roman wanted to say. But he wasn’t.

Was he?

The kings face did turn hard then, hard and bitter and  _heartbroken._

“Fine,” he spat, and Roman couldn’t be sure but he thought the King’s eyes might be a little shiny, “You want them? Go. But you were  _mine_  first, and you live with that forever,”

He caught Roman’s face in a nearly bruising grip, crushing their lips together. It was the most like the first time of any kiss that Roman could remember. He struggled, but the king held him still in one hand and slid the other from Roman’s neck to his temple.

“Remember everything,” he hissed against Roman’s mouth. The last thing Roman saw was Greta behind the king, wrapping her clawed hand around his neck, and then the world went black once more.

**Author's Note:**

> i keep knocking poor Roman unconscious i feel bad.


End file.
